


The Shrine of Two Lovers

by boco, CredibilityProblem, doxian, JackOfNone, letmetellyousomething, paradajka



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Homestuck Shipping World Cup 2013, Illustrated, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Sexual Content, Mentions of Violence, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Non-Linear Narrative, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Slice of Life, flashing images, fused Alternia/Earth, mentions of amputation, mentions of animal death, mentions of eye trauma, some characters are different ages/species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boco/pseuds/boco, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CredibilityProblem/pseuds/CredibilityProblem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/doxian/pseuds/doxian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfNone/pseuds/JackOfNone, https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyousomething/pseuds/letmetellyousomething, https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradajka/pseuds/paradajka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rogues of Void and Heart hold special significance above the many gods that watch over us, for together they have the power to assist in matters of romance. They help us realize our true desires and feelings, and are an invaluable resource for relationship-related advice. This is the story of their influence in the Derse district of Skaia City...</p><p>  <a href="http://hswc2013-collab.dreamwidth.org/4482.html">Team Jokerkind's entry to HSWC 2013 Collab Round: Mythology.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shrine of Two Lovers

The Rogues of Void and Heart hold special significance above the many gods that watch over us, for together they have the power to assist in matters pertaining to romance. They help us realize our true desires and feelings and are an invaluable resource for relationship-related advice.

 

 

 

 

THE SHRINE OF TWO LOVERS

_If you ever find yourself in the Derse district, there's one spot known only to locals that you really must visit. From the main road, turn left at Dad's Patisserie & Tobacco and walk down the unmarked alley. Behind the row of shops, the alley opens up to a little secluded garden shrine to the Rogue Gods, Roxy and Nepeta. This beautiful area is barely an eighth of an acre. When you enter, be sure to wash your hands at the small basin; then, enjoy the interior._

_At the front of a shrine sits a small plaque describing the legend of the Two Lovers, and suggesting ways to pray. Like all the signs and decorations in the shrine, it's hand painted by the sole priestess, Meulin Leijon (16, olive). Aside from the main shrine, there's a large area set up for public art displays as well as exhibits of written and painted wishes. The small garden area is framed by picnic tables, and the shrine shop sells art supplies, tea, and snacks alongside the more usual talismans and charms._

_We caught up with Meulin to talk about her shrine and the effect it's had on the people of Derse._

_**Q:** How did you first get the idea to dedicate a shrine to both Roxy and Nepeta?_  
 _ **A:** Well, I've worked part-time as a priestess of Nepeta since I was 5. I've always been interested in relationships, and helping people along with their romantic interests. But one thing always bugged me—with so much emphasis on Nepeta as the goddess of romance, why wasn't anyone paying attention to her own romances?_

_**Q:** And that's why you brought Roxy into it?_  
 _ **A:** Of course! Roxy and Nepeta have such a deep, meaningful relationship. Frankly I find it bizarre that they're ever depicted separately!_

_**Q:** When did you decide to open your own shrine?_  
 _ **A:** As I said, I've served Nepeta part-time since I was 5. When I was 8 I decided to commit myself fully to the priesthood. But despite all the people I helped, there always seemed to be something missing! I was planning it even then, but I wasn't able to secure the loan to fund my own place until six sweeps ago. Then, with the help of the Disciple from my old shrine, we bought and designed this place, and I've been here serving the community ever since!_

_**Q:** Can you describe your average night to me?_  
 _ **A:** I get up early, while it's still light out. Nights for priestesses are long! The night begins with cleaning and ends with cleaning. Before the sun goes down, everything needs to be swept, all the plants need to be tended, all the cats need to be fed. Any offerings damaged during the day need to be repaired, too. Then it's time for the dusk sacrifice, right at the moment the sun disappears. And then I open the main gate for customers! In the early evening most of our visitors are humans, coming by after long days at work or school. We're a multicultural shrine so of course all types of people are welcome! Later in the night, trolls begin to arrive to give a quick prayer or buy a helpful charm. Most guests only stay for 10 or 15 minutes, but sometimes people come for advice—especially people who come to pray to Roxy—and I always take the time to sit and chat with them one-on-one about their problems. The average night sees about two or three dozen guests, but that easily quadruples on holidays. Sometimes it gets really crowded! But I'd never want to leave for a larger space. I'd rather have something small, personal, and here in the heart of the community!_

_**Q:** You first opened business during Nepeta's festival season, on the 3rd perigee of the 8th dark season._  
 _ **A:** That's right! It's been almost 5 sweeps since we first opened to the public._

_**Q:** Any plans for the anniversary?_  
 _ **A:** Yes! Starting with the Lover's Festival this 7th season, and continuing through the 15th perigee of the 8th, we're holding special events each night in honor of the Two Lovers! If you've been having problems with your romantic partners in any quadrant and need just a little bit of extra help, or if you have a perfectly healthy set of mates and want to give thanks, or even if you're happy alone or just like to paint—please stop by and celebrate!_

_**What:** 5th anniversary of the Leijon Family Shrine to Roxy and Nepeta_  
 _ **When:** the 40-perigee period between Lover's Festival and the 15th of 8th; celebration begins each night at sunset and continues until morning_  
 _ **Where:** From Derse Central Station, walk east; turn left at Dad's and continue down the alley. A 6 minute walk from the station._  
 _ **What to bring:** Your hopes, aspirations, and thanks for Roxy and Nepeta. Outside crafts welcome but materials also available on-site._  
 _ **What to wear:** Casual dress is fine, but remember to make your gloves fingerless!_  
 _ **Cost:** Admission is free, but donations are appreciated. Expect art supplies to run $6~10. Charms available from $3 and up._

> Meulin: Snip-snip.

You sigh happily and clip out the magazine article to frame. The last 5 sweeps have been tough, but next week will be tougher. You can't wait for the festivities to start! You're confident all your guests will love what you have planned, and you know Roxy and Nepeta will too!

It's still two hours before sundown, but you feel like starting the night early. You get together your broom, your paints, and the cat food, and begin making the evening rounds. As you walk, you let your mind drift, and think back to all the stories that have walked through your shrine in the past five sweeps...

 

 

 

 

> Select an object.

A wizard figurine.  
An embroidery hoop.  
A dead rat.  
A Beckoning Nepeta.  
A pack of crayons.  
A judge's gavel.  
A cat plushie.  
A heavy book.  
A teacup.  
A shot glass.  
A photograph.  
A manacle.  
An expensive rifle.  
An elaborate painting.  
A can of paint.  
A handwritten note.  
A pair of drawings.  
A cellphone.  
A glass amulet.  
A locked gate.

 

 

 

 

> Meulin: Contemplate offering.

It's a SHITTY WIZARD FIGURINE! There seems to be a note attached to it. If anyone asks, of course you didn't read it, it's impolite to pry into someone else's purrsonal affairs! But just between you and me, if the gods didn't want you reading it, Disciple wouldn't've taught you how to reseal envelopes and retie knots during your training at the main Temple of Nepeta, would she?

You purromise only to use your privileged knowledge for good! But sometimes these ships need a little bit of extra help to sail.

Leaving offerings isn't the only way to let the gods know they're in your thoughts, though. Since both Rogues are also associated with creativity along with a range of other qualities, a cheery song here or a drawing there are great dedications as well, especially for those who might not be able to make the trip out to the shrine itself.

Little gestures like these are probably happening all over the city as you speak!

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Kanaya: Make your daily commute.

Your carriage rattles as the train swerves, making a sharp turn, the movement almost sending your needle straight into your finger. But your hands are steadier than that, of course. There's no place in your life for a shaky grip, whether you're carving shapes into your exquisitely maintained hedges or trimming the limbs off of murderously dangerous miscreants.

Or lovingly, painstakingly constructing a gift for your gorgeous carapacian neighbor, which is what you are doing right now.

You pause to consider your handiwork for a moment, critically. It's very close to being finished: an embroidery of the Genesis Frog, the subject the tale of the creation of the universe that you'd read in storybooks ever since your first molt. There are tiny sparkling beads for stars in his belly, his eyes are bulging and shimmering, and you're invoking the Huntress and the Demiurgess with every stitch you make. You beam to yourself with pride—it's beautiful, your best piece yet.

She's going to absolutely _detest_ it.

Your smile threatens to turn into a giggle but you swallow it quickly, biting your lip. Wow, one would think you were a freshly pupated troll at schoolfeeding time with your first inklings of a blackcrush. But you can't help it. You're not sure what exactly draws you to her, everything about her is just so thoroughly _awful_. Maybe it's the fact that she practices the violin at three in the morning, which wakes you up and then _keeps_ you up, sitting at your window soaking up the haunting refrains, when you need to be up at six to make your daily commute to the brooding caverns for the daylight shift. Or how elegant she looked when you glimpsed her step out of her home and straight into a nondescript black car one evening, wearing a floor-length black gown tinted with green.

Or maybe it's that you've spotted her with the leprechaun gang known as the Felt in watering holes throughout the city. No one can remember whether the Felt was their original name, or whether the rest of the city folk started calling them that, while gossiping over jugs of sopor-infused carbonated concoction, for the lurid, bright green suits they wear in honor of His Indestructible Omnipresence, Lord English. You don't so much care that they're monotheist, cultist weirdos—however anyone chooses to worship is their own business, idiosyncratic as it may be—but when you hear of them it's always in the same breath as the news of gunfights breaking out in the East End, endangering the humans going about their day to day lives, even trolls at times, many of whom are friends of yours. Like Karkat—you know he lives in a dump of an apartment right above one of the Felt's favorite spots.

And all that fuss merely in the name of turf wars. You _tsk_ softly under your breath. What a waste of talent, getting involved in such petty matters when she's clearly better than that—smarter, more skilled. You had the privilege of seeing her gouge an enemy's eye out, once, from a distance, craning your neck over the crowd pushing past you in waves to get away from the troublemakers. You remember the sharp glint off of her cigarette holder—not even a knife, just a slender bit of enamel—and her unflappably nonplussed expression.

Her carapace shell is probably too hard for you to bite into, rainbow-drinker fangs or not.

You finish the embroidery just as the train shudders to a stop at your station. You're so focused on your thoughts and your work that you almost miss it, hurriedly gathering your belongings and dashing onto the platform, catching the doors right before they close.

Returning to the almost-suburb where your hive is located, just between the city center and the far outskirts where the brooding caverns are, never ceases to be a relief to you after a long day. As you walk down the winding, sandy paths leading to your hive, you briefly consider cluckbeasting out of your original plan and leaving the stitching at the priestess' shrine, instead—an offering is no less potent than a gift, after all—but you imagine the exquisite grimace of disgust that graced her features during the rainy season, the paths inundated with water and frogs emerging seemingly out of nowhere, croaking and leaping in the damp, and your resolve returns.

Quickly looking around to make sure she doesn't see you if she's home, you take your stitching and your note and leave it in her correspondence receptacle with shaky hands, whispering a few last hopeful words to the goddesses as you walk the last path home.

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> SS: Pay your respects.

You don't go to the shrine much. Don't need the reputation of a guy who spends all his time wishing for someone to share his life with. But sometimes a guy just needs a guy who will tell him when to stop stabbing 'cause the other guy's already dead. Or to warn him to aim a bit left 'cause his perception's off 'cause of his fuckin' eye. Or not to kill Deuce 'cause then who's gonna do explosives. Not him. It's too dirty of a job.

You bring a dead rat in a paper bag. It's one of the ones that live in your neighborhood. It took a long fucking time and a few dozen bullet holes in your wall to kill so you hope she appreciates it.

It's a better thing to give the Huntress than some shitty story about make-believe hunting at any rate.

You set the bag down among all the other crap and take a look over your shoulder. There's no one around this late except maybe the shrine-keeper, but she won't come out. You've got a reputation. One that paints you as not the type to have friendly conversation about your quadrants with at 3am.

Here, you tell her. Got an offering for you. She doesn't say anything back. You're not surprised. The gods never talk back. It's kinda nice 'cause you'd rather there be silence than someone annoying yapping at you. Not that you know the gods are annoying for sure, 'cause like you just said they've never talked to you.

You decide to just forget that train of thought 'cause it was going nowhere.

You're not really sure what else to say to her so you just stand there silently and think about Droog. You still remember the best thing he ever gave you, that day he came into your room and told you he had a guy make you an arm.

Huh? you asked. Or maybe just said. You were on some pretty strong meds that day because of losing your arm. You remember being pretty confused about why you needed an arm. Your arms were fine. They didn't hurt at all.

Those were some damn good meds.

It's a good arm, he told you and you just kind of made a noise to show you were listening. There was a guy that owed me, he continued. It's supposed to work just like a real arm with fingers and everything. Just gotta hook up a few wires to your shoulder and good as new. I can't do shit for your eye, though.

That's about when you noticed you could only see out of one eye. Huh, you thought. Wonder what happened.

Snowman happened, he told you, and it was nice you didn't even have to ask.

When you're done at the shrine you walk back to town and call him for a ride. You can't drive well since your eye (not that you don't, just that your car's in the shop right now).

You smell like dead rat, he tells you. You grunt in response. I should kick you out of my car, he continues. You think about stabbing him in the leg for saying that, but figure it's a waste of time if you're the one that's gonna have to clean it up.

He smirks, knowing you're not gonna do anything, and continues driving you home.

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Meulin: Restock the shrine shop.

You fill a few baskets with your newly-finished "Beckoning Nepeta" figurines, guaranteed to draw the apurropriate relationships right to your hive! You're so glad these got done in time for next week's festivities—they're sure to be a hit. You think it's best to have a variety of items available. Some people love little symbols and jewelry, some just want art supplies to make better offerings for the wish boards, but until now you never really had that purrfect item for block decoration to really capture the gods' attention.

Maybe if these sell well you can finally get the materials to make the matching Roxy-concentrating-in-her-pyramid figurines, perfect for school desks, offices, or anywhere people need just a bit of help clearing things up.

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Meulin: Grub-sit.

Late in the night, long after the midnight rush has ebbed, you get a pair of curious visitors: a tall human lusus and his tiny human charge. The both of them are wearing big pointy sunglasses, even though the sun won't be up for another two hours or so. Those glasses seem awfully familiar... might this be the human that one seadweller was talking about? You stifle a conspiratorial giggle and try to compose your professional demeanor as the two approach:

"Welcome to the Shrine fur Roxy and Nepeta! Let me know if you need anything!"

Most of your customers just take a break, say a prayer, leave an offering, and go on their way, and you're content to let them. As the tall human pulls the small one into the main shrine building, however, you can't help but keep a curious eye on them. They walk up to Roxy's altar, and the adult makes a Roxian hand sign and says a quick prayer. He motions to the small one to do the same. You're too far away to see what they're saying.

Well... the ritual pumpkin _has_ gotten a little soft. It wouldn't be weird at all if you _just happened_ to change it with a fresh one! You abscond back to the tiny vegetable garden near your house, behind the shrine proper, and pick out a gourd that seems ripe. You'll scoop out the insides to make something tasty later, but right now the whole fruit will have to do for your cover.

Pumpkin in hand, you sneak into the offering hall. From here you can see them standing in the main hall, and if you squint a bit, you can even read what they are saying.

"That's why you can't see her. They don't call her the Rogue of Void for nothin'."

"If you're a devit— devot— if you're her friend, does that mean you can get invisdible too?"

"Haha. Not yet, lil bro. She might be my patron, but the gods're a bit more subtle than their followers. Case in point."

Oh. He's gesturing at you, and your terrible eavesdropping ability. You give a cheerful smile to cover up your embarrassment and climb up the back steps into the shrine building.

"I've got a favor to ask," the human continues, now addressing you directly. "I've got somewhere I need to be for a while, and this kid needs a place to stay out of trouble." Your smile drops. This is a shrine, not a surrogate lusus purractitioner.

Before you can protest, Pointy Shades pulls out his wallet, flashes a big note, and stuffs it in the offering box.

"For just an hour or two?" he pleads. "I have a good reason, believe me, but I can't tell." He makes another Roxy sign—'zuipperpips'. You sigh again, and give the countersign. So be it, then.

You crouch down so you're at eye level with the child and smile again. "Well aren't you a purrecious little kitty! What's your name?"

"Dave." He turns away from you and mumbles something more, but you don't see it. His guardian ruffles his hair and then steps away. The kid turns back in time for you to read the last part—"I don't like her, she talks funny!"

You try to hide your frown. Little wigglers can't help but be honest, you know, but it's been a few sweeps since you heard anything negative about your condition and you don't like it. But you have a duty, not just to this kid and his guardian, but to Roxy Herself, to see this through.

"Davey, I can't talk purrfectly well because it's hard fur me to hear, and I don't remempur all the right sounds to make. But it would help a lot if you could look at me when you talk back. That way I can see what you're saying."

"Now Dave, be nice for the priestess. I'll be back as soon as I can, and then we can head home, okay?"

"...Okay." He looks down, and says something more. You put a finger under his chin and lift his head so he's looking at you again. He look confused for a second, but then it passes and he repeats. "What's your name, Miss Priestess?"

"I'm Meulin!" You smile again and stand back up, taking his hand into your own. "Now let's get you a little snack and we can have some fun coloring together! Would you like that?" The guardian nods to you as you lead the child outside, towards the picnic tables. With your free hand, you give him one last Roxian sign—'everything is under control'. He smiles at you, makes one last prayer at the Roxy altar, and leaves.

"So why are you two out so late?" you ask as you pour some mint tea.

"I go to a troll school. Because I can't be out during the day. The sun is too bright." That would explain the sunglasses. You guess that the guardian wears them to encourage his charge to do the same. It makes you think back to your own lusus, all those sweeps ago...

...which gives you an idea.

"You know, I really like the sun! But I used to hate it." You spread some paper out over the table, and pull a few boxes of crayons from your sylladex.

"'Cuz you're a troll."

"That's right. Most trolls are really bad with the sun. It hurts our eyes even if we wear sunglasses like you, and it makes us tired. But it wasn't always like that. A long time ago, trolls stayed up during the day, just like humans!" You sketch a city skyline, then draw a road with some people walking along. You give a few horns, and wrap a few in the bright garments of the carapace-folk.

"Really?"

"Yep! But that all changed when Vriska stole the sun." You draw in a really big, yellow sun, then start to add a flying fairy Vriska in orange and blue next to it.

"Fresca stole the sun?"

"Do you wanna hear the story? It's one that my lusus told me when I was about your age. But I don't really remember it..."

He looks away when you say that, so you don't catch his response. You frown and tap the table in front of him to get him to look back up to you. "It's okay, I can still tell the story," you continue. "I'm just going to need a little bit of help."

"Help?"

"Whenever there's something I don't remember, or whenever you think I'm telling it wrong, I want you to come in and say it right! Okay?"

"But how'm I s'posed to know the story if I havn't heard it yet?"

"You just have to make it up, silly! No story is the same every time. It always changes each time you tell it! So can you help me tell the story?"

He turns away again, and you rap the table. He turns back to you and nods. You smile really big, push some crayons towards him so he can help illustrate as you go too, and begin.

***

About two hours later, a can of orange soda clinks onto the table in front of Dave. Both of you look up from the comic pages you're coloring to see Dave's guardian, looking a little haggard but with a kind smile. "Hey, lil bro. How you doin'?"

"Nepeta got captured by the pirates and taken to Dimension X! So Roxy and the Sea Witch and the Robo Maid Squad are gonna break her out with advanced plasma rifles!"

Spread across the table is a bizarre and meandering forty pages of comics drawn in neon crayon and haphazardly arranged in no particular order. The tall human looks them over, then looks up to you, utterly confused. You just smile sweetly and tap the table in front of Dave to catch his attention. "We;ll have to put the story on paws fur tonight, Davey. But you're welcome back whenefur you like, and we can continue right where we left off!"

He looks disappointed for a moment, but then smiles up at you—the first time you've seen him really smile all night. "Thanks, miss Meowlin!" He then starts to gather up the comic pages, but you stop him.

"Wait! Roxy and Nepeta haven't read it yet!"

"Huh?"

You gesture to the wish boards a few feet away. They're covered in wishes and stories hand-written on nice stationery, of course, but also stickers, artwork, comics, and plenty of little handicrafts with notes attached.

"The story's diffurent every time, remember? And they haven't heard this one yet. So how about I post it here for them to read, and when you're ready to come back and draw part two I can give you this one back to keep at home?"

He looks a little embarrassed for a moment that his work will be on public display, but his guardian cuts in. "That sounds great, doesn't it, Dave? You always wanted to be a published artist. Here's your chance!" At that, he brightens up, and gives you a nod and the pages he'd already picked up.

Dave and his guardian head out, hand in hand, Dave animatedly telling the taller human all about the twists and turns of your tale. "Come back soon!" you call after them, once they reach the front gate. Both of them pause there to wave, and Pointy Shades makes a final sign: thumbs up for a job well done.

You sigh happily. Being a priestess sometimes means doing things you don't really want to do. But you trust that Roxy and Nepeta bring you the things that need doing. And this was certainly a nice change of pace from your normal work, once you got into it.

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Rose: Auspisticize.

ROSE: I believe we are all adequately prepared. Shall we begin?  
TEREZI: ROS3, TH1S 1S 4 S1LLY 1D34  
ROSE: What makes you say that? With your passion for the decisive judgment of the trial and the deep spiritual charge afforded by the act of roleplaying, this should prove the perfect forum for you to air your grievances with each other, and subsequently deal with them in a hopefully productive manner.  
GAMZEE: HoNkHoNkHoNk :o)  
TEREZI: >:o  
TEREZI: NOT A P33P OUT OF YOU UNT1L 1TS YOUR TURN TO SP3AK!  
GAMZEE: :o(  
TEREZI: TH1S 1S NOT GO1NG TO WORK 1F TH3 D3F3ND4NT H1MS3LF WONT FOLLOW TH3 CORR3CT PROC3DUR3  
GAMZEE: HeY nOw DoN't AlL uP aNd Be GeTtInG yOuR mOtHeRfUcKiNg PaN aLl In ThE rUdEsT oF tIzZiEs, My LeGiSlAcErSiStEr.  
GAMZEE: If ThErE's StUfF a MoThErFuCkEr CaN dO tO mAkE iT sO tHaT sHiT iS aLl ChIlL, i'lL aLl Up AnD dO iT.  
GAMZEE: jUsT tElL a MoThErFuCkEr ThE fUcKiN sCoRe.  
TEREZI: YOU C4N ST4RT BY M41NT41N1NG 4 CONTR1T3 4ND R3SP3CTFUL S1L3NC3 UNT1L TH3 4DJUD1C14NT H4S OP3N3D TH3 FLOOR  
ROSE: That reminds me, would you care to tell me how this works again? I don the ceremonial robe of the Adjudiciant, which we're substituting with this decidedly very fancy dress-up robe of yours for lack of the proper attire, and I speak the words. Then I turn the floor over to the persecution.  
TEREZI: Y3S, TH4T'S R1GHT  
TEREZI: WHY ROS3, YOU LOOK STUNN1NG!  
TEREZI: TH4T ROB3 SU1TS YOU 4LMOST 4S W3LL 4S 1T DO3S M3 >:]  
ROSE: Thank you for saying so, Neophyte Pyrope.  
TEREZI: H3H3H3  
ROSE: Alright, let's start.  
ROSE: We offer this roleplay to the Rogue Gods. May they smile down on our wayward souls.  
ROSE: I, Adjudiciant Rose Lalonde, declare this trial in session, in the name of the Sufferer, the caretaker of merit and equality and the speaker of the Vast Expletive.  
ROSE: The persecution may now state her case.  
TEREZI: TH4NK YOU, YOUR HONOR4BL3 TYR4NNY  
TEREZI: TH3 D3F3ND4NT H4S B33N CH4RG3D W1TH PURPOS3FULLY 1NT3RF3R1NG W1TH 4 CR1M3 SC3N3 BY OBFUSC4T1NG EV1D3NC3 AND R3MOV1NG TH3 CORPS3S  
TEREZI: Y3ST3RD4Y N1GHT JUST P4ST SUNS3T, TH3 P3RS3CUT1ON D1SCOV3R3D TH3 D34D BOD13S OF TWO M1DBLOODS ON TH3 L4WNR1NG OF OUR COMMUN4L H1V3ST3M  
TEREZI: NO DOUBT THE UNFORTUN4T3 C4SU4LT13S OF OUR COMMUN1T13S H1GHBLOODS 3XP3R13NC1NG R4GE FOR TH3 F1RST T1M3, PROB4BLY 4S 4 R3SULT OF SOM3 D33P 3MOT1ON4L TR4UM4  
ROSE: Oh, is that what all the ruckus was? I'm glad I decided to spend the day in bed reading, then.  
ROSE: Wait, you're a highblood too, right?  
TEREZI: Y3S BUT 1 H4V3 STRONG3R S3LF CONTROL TH4N THOS3 GUYS >:]  
TEREZI: 4NYW4Y, W1TH 4LL DU3 R3SP3CT YOUR HONOR, TH1S 1S NOT TH3 T1M3 FOR 1NT3RRUPT1ONS!  
TEREZI: (plus 1f you h4v3 4ny comm3nts to m4k3 your3 suppos3d to s4y "obj3ct1on!" f1rst s1lly)  
ROSE: (Ah, I see, sorry. It won't happen again.)  
TEREZI: AFT3R COM1NG TO TH4T 1NTR3P1D CONCLUS1ON 1 TURN3D TO 3X4M1N3 SOM3 CLU3S  
TEREZI: 4ND WH3N 1 TURN3D 4ROUND 4G41N TH3 BOD1ES W3R3 GON3!  
TEREZI: 4LL TH4T W4S L3FT W4S ON3 OF TH3S3 STUP1D HORNS  
TEREZI: WH1CH COULD ONLY POSS1BLY B3LONG TO ON3 P3RSON!  
ROSE: Objection.  
ROSE: I feel obligated to point out: you should never turn your back on the bodies, bro.  
TEREZI: ROS3 YOUR3 NOT H3LP1NG >:[  
TEREZI: SO TH4T 1S WH4T H4PP3N3D  
TEREZI: G4MZ33 M4K4R4, HOW DO YOU PL34D?  
GAMZEE: UuUuUuUh.  
GAMZEE: LoOkS lIkE i ClEaN fOrGoT aBoUt MoViNg My GoOd MoThErFuCkIn NeIgHbOrS' dEaD fUcKiN bOdIeS aRoUnD.  
GAMZEE: i MuSt'Ve AlL uP aNd GoNe SpAcEd OuT aNd LoSt TrAcK oF wHaT i WaS mOtHeRfUcKiN dOiNg WiTh MySeLf.  
GAMZEE: YoU kNoW hOw It Is  
GAMZEE: OnE mOmEnT yOu'Re AlL gEtTiNg YoUr ChIlL oN  
GAMZEE: tUcKiNg InTo SoMe SwEeTaSs FuCkIn PiE aNd SlAmMiNg BaCk a FaYgO lIkE tHe MoSt WiCkEd CaReFrEe Of MoThErFuCkErS  
GAMZEE: nExT tHiNg YoU kNoW yOu'Re AlL sTaNdInG iN sOmE hAlLwAy AlL oBlIvIoUs As To HoW iN tHe MoThErFuCk YoU gOt ThErE  
GAMZEE: sTaRiNg At ThE pAiNt AnD wOnDeRiNg HoW iT aLl Up AnD fUcK aNd GoT uP oN tHaT wAlL  
GAMZEE: MiRaClEs Is HoW :o)  
GAMZEE: BuT iF yOu SaY i MeSsEd YoUr ShIt Up BuT gOoD, i'M oF a MiNd To AgReE wItH yOu, SiStEr  
GAMZEE: If YoU cAn'T bElIeVe In YoUr FrIeNdS WhAt In FuCk Is ThErE lEfT tO bElIeVe In!  
TEREZI: UUUUUGH.  
TEREZI: ROS3 DO YOU S33 WH4T NONS3NS3 1 H4V3 TO PUT UP W1TH 4LL TH3 T1M3  
TEREZI: G4MZ33, HOW C4N YOU B3 SO COOL W1TH TH1S  
TEREZI: 1F 1M WRONG 4ND YOU D1DNT MOV3 TH3 BOD13S TH3N SAY SO!  
TEREZI: YOU DONT H4V3 TO JUST S1T TH3R3 FONDL1NG YOUR GLOB3S B31NG 4LL HURR DURR 1m G4Mz33 4nD 1m tOo SoPoR StOn3D tO kNoW mY bUtT fRoM mY tH1NkP4N  
GAMZEE: SoOoOoOrY.  
GAMZEE: bUt YoU'vE gOnE aNd AlL eArNeD mY tRuSt, TeReZi  
GAMZEE: YoUr BiTcH aSs MeMoRy'S gOt To Be HeLlS bEtTeR tHaN a PiEcE oF cLoWn TrAsH lIkE mInE iS  
ROSE: Hmm.  
ROSE: I mean, objection.  
ROSE: Terezi, have you considered that Gamzee was not merely a disruptor of the crime scene, but the actual perpetrator of the crime itself?  
ROSE: Highbloods are particularly susceptible to fits of rage, as you so kindly reiterated earlier.  
ROSE: And he left behind evidence, didn't he?  
TEREZI: >:o  
TEREZI: ROS3  
TEREZI: TH4T 1S  
TEREZI: TH3 DUMB3ST TH1NG 1 H4V3 3V3R H34RD  
TEREZI: H4V3 YOU M3T G4MZ? LOOK 4T H1M, H3 COULDNT HURT 4 FLY 3V3N 1F H3 TR13D  
GAMZEE: hOnK :o)  
TEREZI: 1M PR3TTY C3RT41N TH3 K1LL3R W4S M13RF4, 1T H4D H3R BLU3B3RRY ST1NK 4LL OV3R 1T!  
TEREZI: COM3 ON GAMZ33, AR3 YOU PL34D1NG GU1LTY OR 1NNOC3NT?  
GAMZEE: i ToLd YoU tErEzI, yOu'Re MoThErFuCkInG cAlLiNg ThE sHoTs HeRe  
TEREZI: .........  
TEREZI: OK4Y  
TEREZI: 1 4CTU4LLY DONT F33L L1K3 D34L1NG W1TH YOU R1GHT NOW, NOT L1KE TH1S  
TEREZI: SORRY ROS3 BUT 1 KN3W TH1S W4SNT GOING TO WORK  
TEREZI: PYROP3 OUT  
ROSE: The ashen quadrant is much more difficult than I anticipated.  
ROSE: Should I go after her?  
ROSE: Should I get her moirail?  
ROSE: What have I gotten myself into?  
ROSE: Quite frankly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I think I'm in over my head. So thoroughly entrenched in relationship shenanigans, I can't tell which way is up anymore.  
ROSE: And now, to make matters even worse, I'm apparently talking to myself.  
GAMZEE: wOw ThAt WaS tHe MoThErFuCkInG bEsT mIrAcLe i EvEr AlL uP aNd DoNe BeEn A pArT oF.  
ROSE: You're not making things any easier, you know.  
ROSE: You should really just tell her the truth.  
GAMZEE: wHoA i DiDn'T uP aNd ToUcH nO dEaD pEoPlE rOsE.  
GAMZEE: i DiDn'T eVeN kNoW aNy MoThErFuCkErS gOnE gOt ThEmSeLvEs KiLlEd :o(  
ROSE: What?  
ROSE: Oh, no, that was just part of the roleplay. Weren't you paying attention?  
ROSE: Terezi was probably just referring to her scalemates, and anyone could have moved those.  
ROSE: I was talking about how you clearly weren't as invested in this little exercise as she was.  
ROSE: Religious aspects aside, since I know you aren't a Rogue follower.  
ROSE: But if you aren't pitch for her anymore, you should say something.  
GAMZEE: AiN'T nO pOiNt In ThAt.  
GAMZEE: ThIs ViLe PiEcE oF cLoWn AsS tRaSh CaN't SuCcEsSfUlLy GeT hIs BlAcKrOm On At AnYoNe  
GAMZEE: AnD tErEzI'lL sEe ThAt AlL bY hEr SavVy SeLf  
GAMZEE: HoNk :o(  
ROSE: Sigh.

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> Meulin: Contemplate offering.

It's a FOUR EYED CAT PLUSHIE! This little cutie was left as a thank-you to Nepeta for a job well done! Cats of all kinds are special symbols for both Roxy and Nepeta, so you see a lot of cats and cat-related items come through the shrine. Mutant kitties like this are the best, though; both Nepeta and Roxy have traditional associations with outcasts and cute weirdies like these. Multiple eyes, multiple mouths, the wrong number of limbs—if nobody else will love you, Roxy and Nepeta sure will!

You'll keep this one on display for a few more nights, then find her a nice home somewhere in the community.

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> Rose: Tell the troll girl exactly how she's wrong.

"A Rogue," Aranea says tapping the side of her mug, "steals. That's the long and short of it. The _heart_ of the matter, if I may say so."

You give the girl a black look over the rim of your own mug, because you're starting to regret talking to her all those weeks ago. You literally ran into her coming out of the library, her arms full of books that went crashing to the ground. Romance novels, mostly—her favorites seemed to be pirates, and aliens, and alien pirates. She also had a copy of _The Testimony of the Nameless Scribe Regarding the Nature and Presence of the Void_ , a peculiar footnote in religious history that you had never thought anyone else would be interested in, which was really the reason why you offered to buy her a pot of tea and talk for a bit. You thought you might have become friends, but she didn't agree with you about the Nameless Scribe and you almost never agree on anything else either. You've met here several times now, and every single time you've wound up arguing over something and stayed out far, far later than you intended. Not that you sleep much anyway, but it's the principle of the thing. Late at night, a human is winding down, while a troll is just getting started. You have thought about proposing that you both simply skip the small talk and start the argument immediately when you both arrived in the early evening, but that seems a little rude for this point in your relationship. Maybe once you get to know her a little better.

Right now, though, you can't believe she just made that pun.

"You've been reading too many pirate novels," you say, taking a sip of your tea. "It's not about stealing. It's about redistributing. The Rogue of Void removes nothingness, and thus everything comes to be. If something needs to be hidden, she covers it with the void she has taken from the whole world. She decides where the void will go."

Aranea gets that small smile you recognize well—the look of a troll who believes she has scored a point. "But Rose... if you're going to redistribute something, you have to first take it from somewhere else, right? Unless you're creating more of it, but then it isn't re-distributing, of course, and even you will acknowledge that the role of the Rogues is to redistribute, not to create—even if Roxy is de facto a Creator, it is through her redistribution of the essence of Non-Creation, and I feel the distinction does matter. Yes, yes," Aranea continues blithely as you open your mouth to object, "I know about your thoughts regarding the void's fundamental role in all acts of creation and the notion of the Void having a godlike sentience and form itself. Very interesting, if a little 'cutting-edge' I think, but not the subject of discussion here."

You pour her some more tea, because that might get her to shut up. You have never seen someone who can talk like this in your entire life—and the obvious glee she gets from explaining things in great detail to people who already know them tells you why. It's like she's in love with the sound of her own voice.

"Fine," you say, when you can get a word in edgewise. "I'll concede your point. The Rogues _redistribute_ for the benefit of the cosmos. But in order for that to be stealing, whatever they redistribute have to belong to someone first. The Void only belongs to itself."

Aranea's smile gets wider. "Ah, yes, but have you ever seen a heart that didn't belong to someone?" You think of a few particularly gruesome answers to that question, but Aranea keeps going before you can say them. Of course she does. "The Rogue of Void steals nothingness for others. The Rogue of Heart steals hearts for others. It's as simple as that."

"Are you suggesting that the Rogue of Heart literally steals people's hearts to give to other people? That she personally makes people fall in love by request?"

"Of course! You're being far too literal, Rose. The word 'Heart' can mean a great many things. For instance, the Rogues definitely oversee _all_ quadrants, not just matespritship!"

"Now who's being literal?" you mutter, then decide to turn this into an opening salvo. "So what does the Rogue of Heart do, if not re-arrange feelings and emotions in such a way as to cause the most joy? In your _expert_ opinion, of course." Aranea does not seem to catch the sarcasm.

"You're still thinking too literally," she says. "The heart doesn't just represent emotions and feelings. It represents the center of a person—the essence of being. The soul." Here, she makes a rounded gesture in the shape of a heart. "That's why it forms the basis of all of our quadrant's symbols."

"Nepeta the Huntress, Stealer of Souls," you muse, because you know that's not what she's getting at and you know it'll annoy her. If she's going to call your ideas about the gods of the Void 'cutting-edge' in a tone of voice that you can tell really means 'crackpot', you're going to get a few digs in too.

Aranea does, indeed, make a face. "No, not like that! What are you doing when you pray to Nepeta for courage? You're asking her to take your fear—your insecurities, part of your fundamental personality—and give you a spark of courage instead."

You calmly drop another sugar cube into your tea. There's already one in there, but this is shaping up to be a three-sugars kind of argument. "But that implies that she is sitting on top of a huge hoard of negative feelings, stolen from the hearts of everyone who prays to her," you say. You like the image—there was a mural in town dedicated to Nepeta, near the shrine, showing the goddess curled up and purring on top of the carcasses of several fantastical monsters. "Where do the insecurities go, if she takes them from you? What does she do with them? What unlucky souls have their faults magnified by the uncaring will of the Rogue of Heart?"

For once, Aranea is quiet. It only lasts a moment. "I thought that's what the monsters on the mural were," she says, as though she is reading your mind. She's probably right, but damned if you were going to admit you'd never bothered to find out what the monsters were supposed to be because you liked them better as literal monsters, seeping in from the dark through the cracks in the world.

"What about this?" you say, by way of changing the subject. "What if she doesn't take anything away from people? What if she only gives? You pray to her, and she lights a spark in your soul—giving you courage, helping you see how to make your dreams come true. That sort of thing." You trace a heart—or maybe it's upside down—on the table unconsciously in a bit of spilled tea as Aranea frowns. "And just like Roxy, she takes from a great principle rather than from individuals."

"Great principle...?" Aranea says.

"The Rogue of Void steals nothingness from the vastness of all that is Nothing, which is infinite. Is it not possible that all individual souls are refractions of something similar? The great Soul, the essence of Being just as the void is the essence of Nonbeing? Why do you think they are always depicted together? I mean, they're said to be a pair, but they're gods. Everything they do is a reflection of something greater. Even quadrants."

Aranea adjusts her glasses. "You're just demonstrating your obsession with great, unknowable cosmic entities at this point," she says, as though that makes any difference. You're sure she's run out of arguments, because the next thing she says is, "Look, the Leijon Family Shrine is just down the road. Why don't we ask the shrine keeper? I'm sure she's very knowledgeable, and I think we could both benefit from the advice of a neutral third party. For a lot of reasons"

You still feel a bit smug because you are certain you've won the argument, but you follow her anyway. Just in case.

***

The sun has long since gone down, and Meulin is happy to see the both of you. Neither of you are exactly regulars—you usually go to the big temples closer to the center of town if you want to speak to the Rogues, and Aranea, you've gathered, generally prefers to cultivate relationships with other gods—but that's the great thing about this little shrine. It's nice and home-y and welcoming. She beckons you into the shrine; you wash your hands in the basin and soon enough, you and Aranea are sitting cross-legged on cushions in the little alcove reserved for consultations with visitors.

Meulin sits down in front of you with a smile, her gaze sliding between the both of you. You wonder if she notices that Aranea is occasionally glaring daggers at you.

"You said you had something to ask me?" Meulin says. Aranea pushes her glasses up on her nose.

"We were having an _argument_ ," she says, putting special emphasis on the word, "about what the Rogue of Heart really does."

"What she does for her followers, you mean?" Meulin says, her smile never wavering, "Lots of things! Look at all the offerings people leave her—she hears every wish, I purromise."

"No, no," you say, waving your hand as though to clear the air of the digression. "We were arguing more about what she does on a metaphysical level. What it really _means_ when we say she's a Rogue of Heart. Does she transform people's souls directly? Does she redistribute the divine spark after stealing it from a vast, all-encompassing principle that is Heart, the soul of all creation?" You take a deep breath. "We were hoping you could give us some insight."

Meulin just shrugs. "The gods are mysterious."

You wait for the rest of the explanation, but there doesn't seem to be one. After a moment, Meulin reaches behind her and pulls out a set of crayons.

"Do you two want to draw some comics together?" she says.

You shoot a glare at Aranea, but she's looking at something else. Quickly, she stands up and goes over to the offering board, pulling a piece of paper off of it with gusto. Meulin cocks her head but doesn't stop her.

Aranea is standing several feet away, but you can still see the glitter coating the picture even from this distance. There's so much glitter. So much. It's kind of repulsive and impressive at the same time.

You hear her utter a single word before jetting off out of the shrine, the photograph in tow.

"Meenah."

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> Meulin: Offer guidance.

Sometimes you have to! A lot of people seek the Rogues' advice because they're having troubles and you don't mind listening, even if the conversation carries you into late morning, long after you should be tucked away in your cocoon. You've almost always got a fresh pot of tea available for guests.

This little limeblood is especially dear to you. She visits almost weekly, and often purchases the trinkets you sell in order to raise funds to keep your shrine running. She's spoken of her desire to dedicate her life to the Rogue of Void, but there's something holding her back from it. You're not sure what, but you know she'll tell you when she's ready.

But not everybody is such a devout follower of the Rogues that they'd consider making them their life's work. Plenty of Derse's inhabitants devote their worship time to the entire pantheon as needed, and others have their favorites among the other aspects, like Time or Fortune. And then there are some who don't much care for the spiritual side of life at all.

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> Be the nonbeliever.

You think everyone's stupid to believe in these false gods. What did they do for you? They did nothing. Your ex, he swore in your native tongue over and over he was just kismeses with that troll, nothing red, but he lied.

You went to the shrine and left stories and he lied.

Maybe these gods don't speak your language. Maybe they're just too busy for a rustblood like you. Maybe they're just not real at all. You lean toward the third option. You don't believe. You wish you never believed.

You go to the bar. It's a nice bar. The bartenders are very friendly, always willing to listen to anyone's problems. Proxies of the Rogue of Void. They will pour you a drink and listen even if they don't understand.

Tonight's bartender is human, with black hair and glasses and blue, blue eyes. Blue like Rufioh's secret matesprit. You hate blue. He laughs and chats with everyone at the bar. You tell him his human bulge is unattractive and you would never want to touch it and he laughs because he doesn't know what you're saying.

Many nights you go to this bar. Sometimes after you go to the hotel next door with someone. All trolls. No humans. You have no interest in humans with their thin skin and strange anatomy.

You meet many different trolls. There's a cultist, quiet. You don't know why he comes to the bar but you think it's to listen. He likes to listen. He will listen to you too even though he doesn't understand. He'll gesture to you and you mostly won't understand. He will describe things related to pailing with his hands and you will understand. It is a universal language.

He won't take off his shirt so you stick your hands up the back of it and scratch. He doesn't even flinch. His mouth is sewn shut with black thread and barely twitches into a smile or frown. He makes no noise. He leaves while you are sleeping and you don't hear the door shut.

There's a seadweller with greasy hair. He talks and talks and talks to the bartender. Stays until closing. Is needy, needy, needy. Wants your phone number after. You will not give it to him. Says you don't understand, that he's just looking for someone who understands. He's just a normal guy, why can he not find someone? He does everything the Rogues would ask for but he still cannot find someone. You tell him that's because they aren't real and if they were they probably don't want to hear from him anymore, but he does not know what you are saying. If he did you still don't think he would listen.

Another seadweller, long braids and sharp tongue. You know her from wigglerhood. She is cruel, always trying to make you believe you don't matter. Thinks she is so great. Thinks she is deserving of all things because of her blood and her money.

You pull her hair. She bites your shoulder. You aren't sure if this is hate or just release. You wonder whether she goes to the shrine and leaves drawings of you circled in spades. You'll never go again so you'll never find out.

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> Meulin: Contemplate offering.

Looks like someone took a photo of their cat and slapped some stickers on it. As far as offerings go, you've frankly seen better, but it's the thought that counts.

One of the many things people ask of the Goddess of Void is help in creative endeavors, especially when they haven't got much to work with, so purrhaps they're looking for a bit of a helping paw?

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> Be the other nonbeliever.

Sometimes you get your clarity on that Callie's the best thing what ever happened to you. You found her on accident, stumbled across her one night all high on some wicked potions what you bought from a brother down by the docks, and she took care of you, real good, made sure you didn't up and do anything stupid while you were seein' all those colours everywhere around you. And she stuck around even after your high wore down, something not even your dad was up to be doing.

She took you in to be living up at her shack just outside of town, tinier than the place you spent your wigglerhood and tinier still than sleeping outside but when it rains you don't get wet, at least.

You think it would have always been nice just living with her as two regular trolls but that night when you first saw her change, saw your god enter her body, contorting her face up like some acrobat into _His_ face, you knew you had something real special.

Possession ain't something unheard of. It happens every now and again. Happened to you once in years past. The Mirthful Messiahs, lesser disciples of your One True Lord, up and took you over for a night. Kurloz about flipped his shit, thinking you were playing at blasphemy. Upended a whole two litres of wicked elixir over your head to try and bring you back to sense.

You're pretty sure he's still doing penance for it.

***

Callie's a miracle girl, not looking anything like the other trolls with her white hair and sopor-bright blood.

She gets all sad-like, sometimes, about being so different, and once even started spouting lies about how wrong she was to look like she does. You don’t really get why she’d be thinking that way. She knows you got these gillslits that won't up and filter water like they need to so you could get swimming after your dad back when you lived at the beach, but she doesn’t act like you’re wrong to be having them broken like that. Or having them at all since you're not a seadweller.

You ain't the only two motherfuckers what could call themselves mutants, anyway. Once you met this troll what had blood redder than what you thought was even possible and his friend with the glowy eyes in red and blue.

There's all kinds of miraculous shit out in the world like that; you just gotta open your eyes a bit to see it.

***

Callie's got religion, too. It ain't your religion, though. She don't want nothing to do with your Lord even when they're sharing the same skin.

She gets her pray on at the wicked shrine of Heart and Void lots of the time. Kurloz don't approve but he thinks everyone's wrong about everything so mostly you don't listen to him. And it's not like he's around much and mostly trying to get told what to do from your god when he is. He'll sit in some trance for hours just begging Caliborn to come out and hit him with righteous teachings and requests. He doesn't get you gotta make nice with Callie too, that she's all got feelings and shit and she don't like it when others don't wanna see her.

You don't even know how Kurloz found the two of you in the first place, besides knowing he's got his knowledge on for everything what happens in this town. He's always being places when you least expect. You're almost used to the surprise.

Your Lord won't come out for him, though. Just for you. Just when you and Callie are here all on your own does he ever make himself known.

Tonight you're just sitting at the table when suddenly her eyes all roll up back into her head and she slumps back in her chair. You rush to grab the chain and get her leg all attached to the table before he wakes up.

He always wakes up with this sneer, like he's angry about things before he's even barely opened his eyes. He tests the chain straight away but you did good in getting it on and it ain't gonna move none.

You all make him a big meal 'cause you figure a god's gotta get pretty hungry watching over you like he does. He don't always eat your food. Sometimes he'll throw it on the floor and then you gotta clean it up while he kicks at you. That's how you know what not to make him.

It's chill, though. You got lotsa recipes and only you and Callie to share them with most nights.

You make a big plate of mashed tubers with garlic and some of the herbs what Callie grows in front of the cuisineblock's window and place it in front of him with a smile.

"Stop smiling, idiot. I don't want to see your stupid face. I have important things to do."

"What kind?"

"Nothing I'm going to tell you about."

"Aww. Okay, fine, brother. Whatever you want."

"I want. To leave."

"Nah, can't do that. Promised Callie."

He rattles the chain. "Stupid girl. Ruining everything like girls do."

"Nah, she ain't stupid. Smarter than me most times." The chain was her idea. Restrain him while he's busy fighting for control and then he can't leave. You don't mind, considering you get your Lord all to yourself that way. Polytheists just don't have their appreciate on for the way it feels to have the one true god be sitting right near you. First time it happened you about cried from relief. He ain't got problems with a motherfucker living with someone who don't accept him as the only god worth worshipping, not like Kurloz always says. You live here with Callie and he comes to you all the same.

"Come closer," he says, so you do. You ain't gonna turn down benediction what's being offered at you. The plate all hits the side of your face with a crack and you think maybe there's blood mixed in there with the smashed tubers dripping warm down your cheek.

But it's fine. Not too bad of a clean-up or nothing. And there are still hours yet left of listening to what Caliborn wants to tell you.

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> Meulin: Contemplate offering.

It's a FANCY RIFLE dedicated to the Gods! You kind of wonder if it works, but you don't want to scare off all the cats finding out. You'll move this to the offering hall inside, where people can see it but not touch it, and maybe reach out to some friends for help disposing of it safely if you need to reclaim the space. You hope whoever left such an extravagant offering finds what they need, though!

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> Equius: Reminisce.

Becoming a bartender was something you were destined for from hatching. You had always marveled at how your lusus, Aurthour, was able to serve you the perfect amount of whatever you wished to drink without you ever telling him what, exactly, you wanted, and while you feel a ludicrous amount of kinship with the Rogue of Heart, it is the Rogue of Void and her ability to provide answers to those who seek them that drew you to this exquisite profession.

It is a lot more work than you were used to, at first. Serving drinks without breaking the glass. Pouring drinks without breaking the bottles. Listening to the stories presented to you without getting sweat all over your uniform or the bar or the patrons. This was especially difficult when you were serving a troll. You are used to humans having no qualms about telling their problems to everyone, but trolls are a noble race, and it's hard to fathom a highblood needing to come to you for advice, or a lowblood daring to approach you with their problems.

There is more equality between castes now than in sweeps past but it is often hard for you to accept that so many see you as an equal.

Sometimes you imagine the Goddess of Heart calling you silly for being hung up on such an antiquated way of thinking. You aren't sure why she would do that, so you have never admitted it to anyone. You, silly? There is no way that could be accurate.

You go to the shrine every other night, mostly to speak with Nepeta, though on occasion to seek help from Roxy on how to succeed in your chosen vocation.

After months of careful planning, one night you leave her a painting, commissioned especially for her, of fine, noble musclebeasts. You would like relationships, in any and all quadrants. You have so many needs.

That is how you explain the size of the painting when asked by the priestess. It is a grand size. The perfect size. You had the canvas ordered special for this piece. You know the Huntress has an affinity for art.

Tonight you are working the closing shift with John, a human with eyes as blue as your own. He became a bartender for reasons that couldn't be more dissimilar from yours, namely, "because Roxy's kind of hot. You know, for a god."

He is laughing at the story the carapace at the counter is telling him when a glass shatters in your hand. No one yells. John turns to you, blue, blue eyes filled with a strange longing. The woman at the other end of the bar looks at you, brown eyes filled with a strange longing. The carapace looks at you, black eyes filled with a strange longing.

You begin to sweat profusely.

"I... need a towel," you stammer, heading off to the washroom to grab several.

You head straight to the shrine when your shift is over.

"Nepeta, you _will_ stop," you tell her when you arrive.

The howling of the wind sounds suspiciously like "Be careful what you wish fur, Equius."

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> Meulin: Inspect the walls.

You keep the outer wall surrounding the shrine as a space for public art. Provided the artists use paints purchased from you, they can draw anything they like. Graffiti in all forms is dedicated to Roxy, of course, as the patron of stealth, creation, and sticking it to the man.

Sometimes you imagine Nepeta walking the wall with you and admiring the artwork.

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> Meulin: Be suspicious.

"They're mass producing shitty _Hello Nepeta_ merchandise and selling it fucking everywhere! They're basically monumental sellouts!"

"Oh, is that so?" you say. You pointedly start feeding the cats, your last task for the morning—as Karkat very well knows. You hope he gets the hint and realizes that the shrine will soon be closing for the day.

"The mischaracterization is fucking unbelievable! It's bad enough that it's the only _actual_ Nepeta shrine in the city, but sure, go ahead and—"

"Well, there's still me, silly!" you interrupt as you fill the bowls. You don't apurrciate that he's trash talking about your former shrine, even if he's right.

"That's why I switched to this place, okay?" he blurts out.

From what you've gathered, Karkat visits shrines for all of the Zodiac and even some of the Children—even the really obscure ones. You developed an almost personal relationship with Nepeta and later Roxy, but in the case of the Vantases, both Kankri and to a lesser extent Karkat... well, it's kind of purrtentious to purrtend to be so personally intimate with so many of the Gods, you think. Let alone to go around claiming that you remember them from a past life, like Kankri does!

It seems suspicious to you that he visits your shrine without actually praying. He just sits around and tells the air about his night. It's not even actual roleplaying! Plus, not ten minutes ago you caught him hiding behind the donation box.

The cats arrive in dribs and drabs.

"Hey Karcat. Why don't you give me what you have been hiding in your purrcket?" Your voice stays cheerfully strained.

Karkat doesn't move for a moment, then he reaches into his pockets and hands you two scoops of pins. Little ant-shaped pins. You remember a quiet troll with dark eyes carefully sticking them to the wall in a shape of a spade.

"You shouldn't try to trick the Rogues. They appurrciate it much more if you make creative offurings of your own instead of tearing others down." Karkat grinds his teeth and looks like he's about to say something more but finally just murmurs goodbye and absconds.

"Get home safely," you call after him.

That guy needs some quadrant mates fur real, instead of making up furendships with gods and deceiving them on top of it! Mrrrrh, maybe you can help with that...

***

A week later, Karkat is sitting with one Sollux Captor at one of the crafting tables.

Somebody (who naturally only had his best interest in mind!) must have convinced him that the shrine was by definition a good setting to talk about feelings and relationships. It's rude to blow your own trumpet but you have to say it's all been masterfully orchestrated!

Sollux may not be one of your regular visitors, but his kismesis is—and that's how you got him to agree to meet Karkat here. Hah, this might even already look like an awkward date to a random observer! A random observer who happens to be yourself, for example. You, of course, just happen to notice them through one of your spy holes. Which is fortunate, since it's part of your job as priestess to help all comers, especially those you consider friends. Well, friends of friends. Acquaintances.

As priestess of Nepeta, the Huntress and the Shipper, you are an expert in covertly researching potential ships. And what's more, you'll be able to see how well the cupcakes they had bought from the shop (made special by you just this evening!) compare to the ones you normally order from Dad's.

Karkat stares as Sollux plucks sugary doodads off the top of his burnt cupcake.

"Care to freaking remind me what the fucking point of this meeting is, aside from noting that, yes, your infuriating kismesis only has their claws up their waste chute half of the time?"

Sollux actually looks uncomfortable. "Well... ok, lets cut to the chase. Xe thinks it would be a good idea if we got an auspistice?"

Karkat's mouth slackens before he sits up straight.

"Uh. Sure, I mean. I could do that for you fuck-ups. I know you like them, so why not?"

Sollux makes a sour face. "KK. An auspistice between you and me, not my kismesis and me. How the fuck did you even get that idea, I just told you we are hitting it off splendidly!"

"You and me? What?"

"Xe thinks you're a bit too... focused on me. I mean, shit, xe apparently saw you sabotaging one of xer offerings in this very shrine." Sollux looks embarassed, while Karkat seems to freeze in place, then gives a worried glance over at the displayed idol of Nepeta.

"WHAT? What the flying fuck is their deal? He's a fucking liar who should... should drown in a shit-filled load gaper, he has no idea. I did nothing! And you said yourself that he probably has no psychic abilities whatsoever, let alone all-seeing eyes—"

"Oh fuck that argument in every moving joint it's got, I can't believe you're pulling that out of your ass just because you're jealous! KK, don't you think I trust xem? Xe has other sources!" Sollux is trying to lower his voice, but the other patrons were already staring, listening. You begin to think that their choice of a public location hadn't been the best idea for a get-together like this.

Karkat stands up, face coloured and contrite. "I fucking hate you! In the most platonic, bleakest and contemptuous way possible! Fuck your self-entitled smugness and fuck your apathy when it comes to anything but your self-indulgent pity tantrums! Why don't you crawl up your own ass if you would rather believe him!" he screams at the top of his air ventillation tubes.

"Well I don't hate you either, so there!" Sollux screams back. "I wouldn't even hate you if you were actually more than just a guilt tripping, talentless sucker! And can you fucking stop it with the 'he', you borderline diarrhea shitlord? It's xe, xem, xer!"

"You! Are a horrible friend! Who would even want to be in any of your quadrants? Anybody who enters your social orbit is basically admitting that they debased themselves long enough to be acknowledged by a socially-impaired asshole like you!"

Sollux sighs into his hands.

"You're such an unbelievable hypocrite, I'm basically waving my busted imagination tab in defeat right now because you're making such a stupid scene. But really, wow, it's ironic that I have to demand that my kismesis should be respected by my so called 'best friend'!" You see Karkat wince at that. "I'm actually doing you a favour with this auspisticism thing. You're unbearably obnoxious to be around and have been for a while now."

"So you would rather have somebody grub-sit us than deal with me on your own, is that it? Am I that horrible to be around? Well blow yourself out, I'm done with you!" Karkat screeches. He looks around into the blank faces of the onlookers, smashes his unfinished cupcake into the table and stomps away.

You watch as Sollux remains seated. The other visitors go back to their business, while he slowly plucks at the rest of his own cupcake. For a moment he looks around, as if searching for something.

You keep hidden, crouching behind the counter of your little shrine shop. Eventually, he gets up and cleans off the remains of Karkat's half-eaten cupcake, then leaves. It's kind of frustrating to see such a nice ashen ship fall apart before it even sets sail, but it comes with the territory. There's not room in the ocean for every ship to stay afloat purrmanently.

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Meulin: Contemplate offering.

The wish boards are full of drawings like this from people who want their relationships blessed by the Rogues. After they stick them to the board, they'll usually say a few words to the Rogue of their choice (or perhaps both as a pair!) and then maybe head over to the gift shop to buy a few trinkets.

Looks like this guy has two quadrants filled. Lucky!

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Jade: Give your moirail some moral support.

That's what you'd be doing if said moirail was actually _here_.

You glance at your phone—you've been waiting for fifteen minutes already and you've seen neither scale nor fin of that fishface, not even a quick text to let you know he's on his way.

Inconsiderate glubber-fucker. If your grandpa and his ancestor hadn't been as thick as thieves back in their day, you doubt you would ever have become friends with the guy. But since he'd shared a close, mentor/protege-type relationship with his ancestor—an uncommon bond between troll ancestors and their descendents—you'd known each other ever since you could first hold a gun... which was only shortly before you had learned how to walk.

This is the second time he's wanted to pay a visit to the shrine this month—you'd re-used the purple string you'd worn on your finger as a reminder for last time—and at this rate it's looking to become a veritable routine for the two of you. You'd come here right after the end of your shift at the lab, but he'd most likely just have rolled out of his cocoon.

Your phone buzzes. Sheesh, _finally_. You fumble for it, but teal text that pops up is for a group chat only accessible to you and two others. The message is not, in fact, from your moirail.

LATULA: H3y b4b3z!  
LATULA: You don3 w1th work?  
MITUNA: H333434Y CUT13 PI3  
MITUNA: HW0'5 1T H4NG1GN? 8)

You grin happily—your matesprits are such dorks.

JADE: hey guys!! :)  
JADE: wow, youre up early!  
MITUNA: W3 JU5HT C0ULDN'T WI4T T0 S33 YU0U!  
LATULA: W4nn4 g3t br34kf4st b3for3 w3 run off 4nd do r4d g4m3r th1ngs?

They're probably still floating lazily in their shared recuperacoon, suspended in the bright green sopor, tapping out their messages while coiled around each other... Mituna's hair standing up in every direction and Latula with both her shades and rad gamer girl persona tucked neatly away. You hate how badly your schedules conflict—after you're done here, you might just be lucky enough to catch Mituna, but Latula will probably already have long since started her day.

JADE: sorry but no can do :(  
JADE: i promised my moirail id visit the shrine of the rogues with him this evening  
LATULA: 4www  
MITUNA: TH4T GUY????  
MITUNA: FUKC H1M 5TR4GEIH7 UP H15 G4PIGN 5LU5RRY 0RF1R1C3  
JADE: Mituna!!!  
LATULA: tun4, ton3 down th3 4sshol3m3t3r!  
JADE: i know you dont like him but hes important to me  
JADE: so dont be a nasty fuckass about it!!!  
MITUNA: F11111N3  
JADE: anyway are you going to come by at dawn :) :)  
LATULA: h3lls y34h grrl!  
MITUNA: FUXCK Y34H!  
JADE: :D

Just then you notice a conspicuous figure striding up with... what looks to be an oversized firearm strapped to his back along with his messenger bag.

JADE: oh i have to go, hes here  
JADE: <3!!

"Cod damn it," he grumbles once he's standing in front of you. "Can you gimme a hand with this, Harls?"

You manage to quickly stow your phone back in your pocket before he passes you the heavy rifle, which you take with an oof.

"Do you know how glubbin' arduous it is to get here from the docks?" he grouses, ever-present scowl on his face, shark-teeth glinting. "An' don't get me started on the _crowds_."

He looks like he's hunting around in his bag for something, and you frown at him.

"Eridan, what the fuck are you doing with a rifle in the middle of town? That's incredibly dangerous! You could have hurt someone if you weren't careful!"

"What kinda question is that?" he asks, appearing to have found whatever it was he was rummaging for. You goggle at the smooth, steel, hexagonal object he pulls out.

"Is that a doomsday device?"

"Only the best," he says, fondly. "Good, it doesn't look like it was damaged on the way here. I'm gonna pay Fortune's Thief a visit after this—this is specially for her. Hopin' the wily demoness'll appreciate it and put me back in her good books. My luck has been fuckin' terrible lately."

You've filled your pale quadrant with a complete nincompoop.

"Just... make sure you don't drop it anywhere by accident, ok?"

"Jeez, Harls, don't insult my intelligence. What do you think I am, some kind of clueless wriggler?" He replaces the device and takes the rifle back from you.

Meulin is tending the garden by the entrance when you walk in, and you give her a cheery wave. Eridan doesn't waste any time in heading to the wish board and setting the rifle against the wall, carefully wedging a note underneath it and even hanging a shiny God of Heart token on it. Now that you aren't busy being shocked at the weapons of mass destruction in your immediate vicinity, it occurs to you that the rifle isn't a crappy throwaway. It's one from his collection...and quite an expensive model, at that.

You hang back as he stands at attention in front of the wall and says a silent prayer.

The fortnight after that it's an honest-to-god gold ring set with a purple diamond, which you goggle at even more than you did at the bomb. Its Rogue connection is tenuous at best since the only "creativity" involved was Eridan setting the already-cut stone into the precious metal, but you keep your mouth shut since that single piece of jewelry alone is probably enough to fund the shrine's upkeep for an entire sweep. After that comes an extremely crappily knitted scarf. You laugh in his face when you see it, which makes him sulk for days.

"What am I doin' wrong?" he asks you over coffee after you've made up—because you always do. It wasn't difficult to suss out that his sudden fervour for the Rogues was because he wanted his decidedly empty concupiscent quadrants blessed. You'd been keeping tabs on who he's been setting his eyes on, but every week some obstacle seemed to emerge and he'd direct his attentions somewhere else.

"Mmm... have you tried doing nice things for them? Showering them with compliments?" you say, placing your index finger thoughtfully to your chin.

"Yeah, shore," he says. "I visit Eq at the bar every week, bring his favourite cigarettes and ask him about his shift. Last week I even helped him move all manner a bottles a Voidy libations around cause he was low on help. What else is a guy supposed to do to indicate his concupiscent interest?"

"Uhh, I don't know, have you... asked him out on a date?" You give him a pointed look.

He looks at you.

You keep looking at him.

"No, but he's supposed to be charmed by my genteel behaviour, coming right out an' askin' him would be crass..."

You let your forehead hit the table, making the porcelain and silverware clink.

"But how is he supposed to know you're interested if you haven't said anything?" you say, voice half-muffled, since you're talking straight into the wood. "What if he just thinks you want to be friends?"

"That's a crock a nonsense and you know it," he snarls, lip curling. "Screw that! I don't need your advice—I know what I'm doin'."

"Ugh, you were the one who just asked what you were doing wrong!" 

The leaves are beginning to turn on your next visit—which indeed has become a bit of a ritual for you now, a pale thing you do together. You're not in the habit of leaving many gifts for the Rogues, but you'd even bought a token now and again to pin to the shrine's offering wall. The pumpkin patch in the garden behind your house has started to ripen, and you've plucked one of the smaller vegetables for Eridan to use as an offering this time—a pumpkin was one of the first things that Roxy was said to have created, after all.

You're waiting for his typically late ass as usual when your phone buzzes—it's probably one or both of your matesprits checking in on you, aww.

When you flip your phone open, your blood runs cold.

By the time Eridan arrives, your panic must be evident because the first thing he says is "Whoa, Jade, what happened? Someone run over your pet lusus?" which you realize is a very, very poor attempt at a joke. It is such a terribly insensitive thing to say but it makes you laugh anyway, a choked giggle escaping even as your eyes mist over.

"It's—it's Mituna, he's in the hospital," you say. "I have to go and make sure he's OK."

His look of concern is gone in an instant. "Psh, that guy? Screwups are a dime a dozen for Helmsmen, he'll probably be fine—"

" _That guy_ is my _matesprit_ , Eridan!" You know it's not his fault he sticks his foot in his mouth every five minutes, but the worry is making you angry and your anger currently has no other target. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go visit him and make sure he isn't fucking _dying_. Here." You shove the pumpkin at his surprised face.

"Wait, don't go—" he stutters.

"Not everything is about you, you know!" you snap. "I have to go, Eridan, sorry, _bye_."

Much to your relief, when you get to the hospital he turns out to be right—Mituna is just badly shaken because his ship had had a minor accident and he'd gotten hit with some painful feedback from it, but they say he'll be fit to go home after a day or two of rest.

By the time you leave it's pitch black outside, and you find yourself ambling back to the shrine instead of returning home immediately. A few trolls are there, but otherwise it's empty, and the peacefulness calms you down.

When you walk past the wall, you notice the pumpkin from your garden. On the accompanying piece of paper, annotated with fussy violet cursive, is your name, your matesprits' names, and a simple request for all of you to be blessed.

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Callie: Visit the shrine.

It's almost too warm to be wearing your hoodie, but you'd rather be a little uncomfortable than attract attention. You can't afford to have anyone get too close, in case he comes out. Gamzee still has bruises from the last time and that's just unacceptable.

You know you should pack up your meagre belongings and leave but you just can't bring yourself to abandon him.

The shrine's almost deserted this early in the evening, which is how you prefer it. There's just you and the priestess out in the gardens.

"Hello!" she chirps when she notices you approaching. "It's nice to see you, Callie! Did you come to purrey to Roxy again?"

"Yeah," you tell her. "I need some clarity right now." You don't sound as cheerful as you normally would, but you don't feel much like being cheerful today, not with this weighing on you.

"Is this about a special someone?" She grins conspiratorially.

"No, of course not." You look down to hide the way your cheeks flame lime. "It's... more complicated than that."

"Well, complicated is Roxy's specialty. She'll help you out." Meulin talks about Roxy and Nepeta both like they're old friends. As someone without many it fills you with longing for what might have been if circumstances were different.

"I hope she can." You have your doubts, but a conversation with the Rogue of Void couldn't make things worse.

"I'm sure she can." She smiles. "Can I interest you in a token of apurreciation for the gods?"

"Yes, of course," you say reflexively. You don't have much money and suspect she gives you a hefty discount, but even then, you donate to her at a far higher rate than most due to your... problem, so it probably balances out.

"Did your brother wreck the last batch?" She doesn't say 'again' even though it's always the same story.

"He wrecks everything," you say with a sigh. 'Brother' is another term for male hatchmate, and not one unheard of among trolls, not with so much human-directed media out there for consumption.

"That’s a shame. I always imagined it would be great to have a hatchmate."

"No one I've met has ever had luck with theirs, so perhaps you’re more fortunate than you think."

"Well, I do feel blessed in other ways, I suppose," she says with a smile. "Tell Roxy I said 'hi'."

***

The wish boards are right next to the shop where you pick up a new amulet, a glass pendant in the shape of a green cube. You like the weight and coolness of it against your chest—though Caliborn obviously doesn't, considering how often he'll tear the chain straight from your neck and stomp it to pieces, throw it in the trash, or otherwise dispose of it.

"I brought you a picture," you say to the board in front of you, pulling the folded paper from the pocket of your hoodie. "It's... he's very important to me. I'm not sure what to do. I don't think there's much I can do. If I leave him I won't have anyone except... except Caliborn." You whisper his name. It doesn't seem right to speak of him in a place so holy. The Rogues have been said not to get along with the Lord of Time, a thought that makes you feel quite uncomfortable. Perhaps you shouldn't be here.

"I must confess I don't know what to do about this. Every time he takes over I lose time and I... He does things. I'm not even sure exactly what but I know they're awful. And I'm powerless to stop them. Gamzee swears he'll take care of me when it happens, no matter what, but I don't know how well he can if I keep hurting him. I don't know how much longer until Caliborn gets bored of that and hurts someone else.

"I'm not sure speaking to you will even help. It's not as if you can change my situation, unfortunate as that is. But perhaps you could grant me a bit of clarity regarding what I should do next."

You pin the picture to the board near some other drawings and photos. You feel lighter somehow, standing there. Like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. If you can keep Gamzee safe and prevent Caliborn from escaping, there's no reason for you to leave just yet. You have an idea of what to do now.

"Thank you," you whisper to Roxy, hand lingering on your drawing for a few moments. "I appreciate it more than you know."

Return to the select screen?

 

 

 

 

> Meulin: Close up for the day.

You take one last look down the alley to make sure there aren't any daylight stragglers on their way in, and with the coast clear, you slide the gate shut. If today is any indication, business will be slow for the next few nights—which is great, because it gives you more time to prepurr! You are pawsitively excited fur the festival season, and you hope that excitement shows when the gate opens on your All-Day Lover's Festival Expurravaganza, furst of the many events you have in store for Derse!

The last five sweeps have seen a lot of romance, and with Roxy and Nepeta's help, the next five will see even more. You can't wait to find out what will happen next.

**Author's Note:**

> **Credits:**
> 
>  
> 
> boco: Text for "The Shrine of Two Lovers" article and "Meulin: Grub-sit", Nepeta cosplay and gif edit, panel edit and Aranea cosplay photo edit for "Rose: Tell the troll girl exactly how she's wrong", general friendleader things.
> 
> credibilityproblem: Cover art, art for "Kanaya: Make your daily commute", "Meulin: Restock the shrine shop", "Rose: Auspicticize", "Meulin: Offer guidance" and mini-fills (wizard figurine, cat plushie, rifle), photo editing for Aranea cosplay pic and cat pic.
> 
> doxian: Text for "Kanaya: Make your daily commute", "Rose: Auspicticize" and "Jade: Give your moirail some moral support", Aranea cosplay, cat pic.
> 
> JackofNone: Text for "Rose: Tell the troll girl exactly how she's wrong".
> 
> letmetellyousomething: Text for "Meulin: Be suspicious".
> 
> paradajka: Text for "SS: Pay your respects", "Be the nonbeliever", "Be the other nonbeliever", "Equius: Reminisce" and "Callie: Visit the shrine", art for Mituna's offerings.
> 
> All of us had a hand in brainstorming, world-building, editing and writing text for mini-fill captions. 
> 
> Initial concept by [Azzandra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra), credibilityproblem and letmetellyousomething.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thanks to everyone who voted for us!


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